A better question was why she wasted so much time on a tepid relationship.
The freeway briefly followed the river as it looped south before it curved west again. Once Mount Vernon fell behind them, the land was flat and mostly agricultural although she saw a plant nursery, wine grapes and a sign advertising rides in hang gliders.
Maddy was not in any hurry to fly again. Never sounded good.
Once they crossed another river, the Snohomish, traffic increased and the surroundings were urban. First Everett, then Lynnwood where Will exited. This was where they’d leave the Jeep and borrow a car from a friend of his for the last leg of the trip.
Will didn’t tell her to hide, but he didn’t introduce his friend, either. The two talked briefly on the front porch of the modest rambler and the guy handed over the keys with only one curious glance her way. Will carried the tarp to the silver Toyota Corolla and said, “I’m afraid you need to stay in the back.”
She got in and shook out the tarp so she could squirm under it quickly. Will drove a circuitous route out of the neighborhood, his gaze turning frequently to the rearview mirror. Apparently satisfied, he got on Highway 405, which led south down the east side of Lake Washington.
The more familiar the sights became, the more nervous Maddy got. She’d grown up in Redmond, bordering on Bellevue. They’d be passing within half a mile of her childhood home. She felt an ache to hear her parents’ voices, hug them.
Not helpful.
“We’re coming up on the exit,” Will said. “I want you out of sight.”
“Okay.” The tarp crackled as she lay down on the seat and drew it over her. Knowing how close they were, she felt suddenly claustrophobic. “Um...will you talk to me?”
“When I can.”
He complained aloud about hitting a red light every block, about the traffic near Bellevue Mall, then grew quiet for a few minutes. “Why here?” he said almost beneath his breath. “Nobody in the prosecutor’s office should earn enough to run in these circles.”
From that, Maddy deduced that they were still heading straight for the lake. He was right; homes here started over a million dollars. Prices on waterview or waterfront property climbed sharply from there.
Her nerves tightened when he turned at last, and turned again. His phone buzzed.
“Yeah?” A moment later, “We’re getting there. I don’t like this.” He listened again, said, “Okay,” then, in an entirely different voice, “You okay, Maddy?”
“Yes. Are we almost there?”
“Yeah. I’m circling a few blocks, mapping the fastest way to get out of here if we need to.”
“Do you see anything to worry you?”
“More parked cars than I like. All nice ones. I guess no one here drives an eight-year-old Jeep.”
“No, but neither are you at the moment.”
“At least this car is still shiny.” After a minute he said, “What did you drive?”
“Would you believe a Honda Civic?”
“No BMW or Land Rover?”
She laughed, even though she knew he was trying to distract her from the building tension. “Nope.”
The phone buzzed again. Will didn’t bother with a hello. He listened, then said, “Be ready.”
“Who was that?”
“The FBI agent. That was his all clear.”
“But you don’t buy it.”
He didn’t answer. Didn’t have to answer.
* * *
NO, HE WASN’T any more convinced this was safe than he’d been when he and the marshal first discussed it. Will wished he knew whether this FBI Special Agent Moore was seasoned or a rookie. He sounded too casual.
The garages and parking on this block were in the alley running behind the homes. Turning into the alley, Will wished he had eyes in the back of his head. He didn’t like being boxed in. He’d have more options if he’d parked at the curb and they’d entered the front door. Moore was right that they’d draw less attention this way—but who cared what the neighbors thought?
The big shiny black SUV parked next to the third garage on the right looked government even if the license plate didn’t say so.
His gaze flicked from the rearview mirror to each side mirror, back to the front, then rearview. He wished he was driving a Humvee.
No other vehicles appeared. He braked but didn’t turn off the engine. There was zero movement until the garage door rolled up, revealing a parked Lexus and a workbench and lawn mower.
He said quietly, “Don’t sit up until I come around the car to let you out. Stay close to me. Got it?”
“Yes.”
Leave the key in the ignition, he decided. He didn’t pull the emergency brake on, either.
They should have supplied her with a Kevlar vest. Will was angry at himself for not asking. For all they knew, he was unarmed, depending entirely on the single agent who stood inside the garage. He hadn’t told Ruzinski that he had the dead marshal’s handgun. He’d give it back eventually.
At least Special Agent Moore had his weapon in his hands and appeared alert.
Will’s skin crawled as he got out, slammed his door and walked around the front of the Corolla. How many times had he felt this, when he knew they were being watched? It was quiet. Too quiet. His every instinct told him to jump back in the damn car and step on the gas. Get out of here. But he acknowledged that his combat senses were still raw. Maybe he wasn’t ready to be thrown back into this kind of situation.
Or he should listen to instincts built on experience.
He scanned the entire alley, rooftops, fences. He couldn’t relax, but had to open the back door for Maddy to wriggle out, hampered by the arm in a splint and sling.
“Keep low,” he murmured.
Her hair ruffled, she crouched next to the fender.
“What’s taking so long?” the agent asked from behind him. “Get her in here.”
Will ignored him. Talking to Maddy, he said, “All right, scoot behind me and stand up. Put your hand on my back so I know where you are.”
She did exactly as he asked.
“We’re going to back up,” he said in the same quiet voice. “You take a step, wait for me to take one.”
Feeling as if every hair on his body bristled, Will heard the soft scrape of her foot moving backward on asphalt. He moved his right foot back, keeping his weight on his stronger side.
“Another—”
A tiny rattling sound was his only warning before the gate almost directly across the alley burst open and a man in black stepped out shooting.
The first shot pinged off the roof of the Corolla and passed within inches of his head.
“Drop!” he yelled.
Maddy did so without hesitation, crawling by him for the shelter of the car.
The second shot came from higher and went over the car. A sharp cry from behind told Will the agent was down.
He started shooting. The closest man jerked and fell forward. Will could barely see the flattened form of the gunman on the roof of a garage they’d driven right past, but he took some shots as he flung open the back door for Maddy.
“In, in.”
She scrambled, he slammed it and duckwalked around to the back bumper. It was farther from the driver door, and he counted on his choice being unexpected.
One look over his shoulder. Moore had pulled himself to the front corner of the garage where he was partially sheltered by the back end of the Lexus. Blood soaked one thigh of his pants, but he held his gun in firing position. His eyes met Will’s.
His lips scarcely moved as he said, “I’ll provide cover. Get her out of here.”
Crouching, Will counted a few seconds, leaned his head around the bumper for a quick glimpse then came out shooting. And, hell, he had to leap over the prone and unmoving body of gunman number one. Kept shooting
until the magazine was empty, leaped into the front seat. Started the engine, thrust the gearshift into Drive and slammed his foot down on the accelerator. The small Corolla rocketed toward the side street.
* * *
ALMOST AS SCARED as she’d been when that propeller quit turning, Maddy hated being blind. She heard the door being opened, felt the car rock when Will flung himself in. She kept waiting for another gunshot, to hear a guttural sound when he was hit. The Corolla would swerve, smash into a garage or a parked car. If he was killed—
Don’t think it.
How could she not, after he had once again put his body between her and danger? He’d been prepared to take a bullet. For her.
The car swayed through another turn, after which she thought it slowed.
“Is anyone following us?” she asked.
“Not yet.” Will sounded grim.
Another turn, and she heard his voice.
“Ruzinski.” Pause. “Blew up in our face. Two gunmen were waiting. The FBI guy is wounded. Maddy and I got out. Car suffered a lot of damage. I’m looking to ditch it.” A long silence. “Yeah, it’s missing a couple of windows, got some interesting dents. I’d get pulled over for sure.” Then, “Uh-huh, I can do that. Thanks.”
Assuming the conversation was over, Maddy asked, “Can I please sit up?”
“I don’t see why not. We’re going to drive half a mile, a tow truck will pick up the car and Ruzinski is coming for us.”
Relief rushed through her as she emerged from beneath the tarp. A mole sniffing the air. “Are you hurt?”
“No. Agent Moore was shot, but should be okay. We’ll find out.”
Dazed, she said, “You were right.”
“I shouldn’t have agreed to this in the first place.” His steely voice made it plain that his cooperation would be hard won in the future. “We should both have been wearing vests.”
“Vests?”
“Kevlar. Bulletproof.” He shook his head, his eyes meeting hers in the rearview mirror. “It was a miracle neither of us took a bullet. More so that a tire didn’t get shot out.”
“Maybe they aren’t that smart,” she ventured.
“No. I recognized one of them.”
“But not the other?”
“He was up on a roof. Couldn’t see him well enough.”
Her pulse was only now slowing. “They quit shooting.” Are they dead? What will happen to the bodies?
“The one in the alley was down. I don’t know if I killed him or not. The one on the roof... Not sure. Moore and I were both banging away at him. If we pinged him at all, he may have dropped his rifle. The roof was pitched enough, it would have slid away.”
And dropped into somebody’s yard. Remembering the barrage of bullets, Maddy could only imagine how many bullet holes residents would find in fences and garage siding. And maybe in a roof?
She hadn’t been paying attention to their route, but now Will steered into a parking lot at a lakefront park, driving to the far end and backing into a slot so that he could see who was coming.
Then he reached for the gun he must have tossed on the passenger seat, dug in a pocket and changed magazines.
“How many bullets does that hold?” Maddy asked.
He glanced in the rearview mirror again. “Thirteen, one in the chamber. Remind me to give you some basic lessons before our next exciting outing.”
Her laugh might have been just a little hysterical. Will grinned because he’d gotten what he had been aiming for.
“Ah, listen.” He opened the glove compartment and took something out. “I need to take the license plates off.”
“Because they’d lead to your friend,” she realized.
“Nope. Because they don’t belong on this car.” He got out, stuck his head back in and added, “Paul collects license plates. That’s one reason I called him. These are BC plates. He’ll want them back even if there is a bullet hole or two.”
“He’s not going to be mad about the car?”
“Nah, he’ll get it back in pristine shape. This autobody place does a lot of work for local LEAs.”
LEA. She considered that while Will crouched first behind the back bumper then the front. She’d heard the acronym before... Law enforcement agencies. That was it. What, was the guy who owned the shop a retired cop?
Will reappeared in the door. “Ruzinski is here.”
They transferred to an older Blazer or Explorer or something like that. Maddy, of course, was consigned to the backseat. She was beginning to get annoyed by the assumption she wouldn’t have anything worthwhile to contribute. She reminded herself that she’d have her chance when she made it into the courtroom.
The marshal glanced at the license plates Will set down by his feet, raised his eyebrows but didn’t comment.
For some reason he didn’t look quite like she’d expected. He was thin, taller even than Will, she thought, with short blond hair spiked with silver, and blue eyes. Except for crow’s-feet beside those eyes, his face was as smooth as that of a man decades younger than she somehow knew he was.
Two blocks away from the park, he glanced at Will. “I hear you were armed.”
“You talked to Moore? Is he okay?”
“Sounds like. Said he bled like a stuck pig.”
After a pause Will said, “I was carrying. Did you really think I’d risk Maddy in a setup like this if I wasn’t?” His voice crackled with anger. “Depending on someone I’ve never worked with before? Who was there alone?”
“Calm down. I didn’t think that. But there is a dead man in that alley. I need to know where those bullets came from.”
He’d killed for her. And yes, he must have killed before, but Maddy didn’t like knowing this violence had been committed on her behalf.
“I have Scott Rankin’s Glock. Maddy grabbed it for protection,” he said tersely.
Ruzinski was quiet for a minute. “I tried to educate myself about your background, but I couldn’t learn much but that you were army.”
“Delta Force.”
The marshal’s eyebrows climbed. “On leave?”
Will shook his head. “I’m out. Humpty Dumpty and I have something in common.”
“Couldn’t put you back together again? Looks like they came close.”
“Good enough, but not up to active-duty demands.”
“I see.”
Delta Force. She’d been even luckier than she knew, Maddy realized. What she couldn’t understand was how Will had reconciled being a healer with the violence he must also have committed. It was telling that his goal now was to become a family doctor. He had to be looking for peace, finding a place he could help instead of harm.
And yet he hadn’t hesitated to jump into the mess her life had become.
My hero, she thought, knowing quite well what he’d say to her calling him that.
Chapter Fourteen
Will hoped recriminations had been flying between the FBI and the Seattle City Attorney’s office. When Yates, who he had learned was a senior deputy prosecuting attorney, called Maddy Thursday evening after the debacle, Will eavesdropped unashamedly, even though he could hear only one side of the conversation. Even so, he could tell that Cynthia Yates started with a shovelful of apologies.
Leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, he watched Maddy’s reaction.
From her place at the kitchen table, she rolled her eyes toward Will and said repeatedly, “Thank you, but you don’t need to—yes, I understand. No, I don’t think we can discount the resources a former judge commands. It does make me nervous about reaching the courtroom safely.” She listened some more, expressed more understanding and finally said, “Why don’t we just get down to business?”
She had displayed more patience than Will felt. He’d expressed his reservations about the meet loud and clear. Ruzins
ki claimed to have shared them, but had he really? Who knew?
Apparently, the FBI agent had been discharged from the hospital after only one night’s stay but with his femur shattered. He’d be on disability for several months. Will and Maddy would certainly be dead if they had trotted on into the garage as ordered.
Will had never had trouble following orders within his unit, but he’d since had an attitude adjustment. No more.
He didn’t listen closely as the two women had an intense discussion about courtroom tactics, what to expect from counsel for the defense and the judge. Maddy had appeared before her on a couple of occasions and had strong opinions on the woman’s particular areas of tolerance and, on the flip side, her biases. During this call, Maddy didn’t docilely listen; she sometimes argued, sometimes stood firm, sometimes acquiesced. She had strong opinions and didn’t back down unless Ms. Yates had solid reasons for a strategy.
The Maddy of today didn’t have a lot of resemblance to the injured, feverish survivor of a plane crash, but she hadn’t lost the quality that enabled her to survive: determination.
While the women talked, Maddy took extensive notes on Will’s laptop, her fingers flying. Watching her, he smiled.
When he heard her say, “I’m going to speakerphone,” he tuned in.
“I’m sure you’ll be in discussions with the Seattle PD and courthouse security about your arrival next Monday, but I want to reassure you—”
Will cut the woman off. “We won’t be reassured until we’ve safely reached the courtroom. I’m assuming your office hasn’t anything to do with those arrangements?”
“Only in the sense that we’re aware of what’s happening and offer our assistance where necessary.”
“Ms. Yates, I encourage you to take security measures yourself. If you were to be killed, it seems likely the trial would be postponed.”
Brace For Impact (HQR Intrigue) Page 16